


Aftershock

by ChickadeeChick



Series: After [2]
Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-15
Updated: 2012-04-15
Packaged: 2017-11-03 16:15:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/383429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChickadeeChick/pseuds/ChickadeeChick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was one thing constant in Roger's life at the moment - Andy.  Prequel to "Aftermath."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftershock

**Author's Note:**

> I got so many positive responses to "Aftermath" (when I originally published this on LiveJournal) that I decided to continue writing the pairing. Go figure. I really love writing banter. It is fun. XD And if you catch the line from Mel Brook's Spaceballs in here you get one free internet.

The effects of THE announcement were felt all throughout Roger’s life – family, friends, acquaintances, and even with the fans.  It didn’t matter who it was, when someone wished him congratulations Roger could not keep the stupid grin off of his face.  And rightly so, he was going to be a father.  If he thought he had experienced life-changing moments before… well this was a whole different ball game.  
  
Surprisingly, the only area of Roger’s life that had not changed, in any way, shape, or form, was his relationship with Andy.  The first time they had seen one another after that phone call the tall Brit had patted Roger’s shoulder and smiled, offering a second congratulations on top of the one given to Roger over the phone weeks prior.  Five hours later they had put a dent in the metal door of one of the toilet stalls in the men’s room of the player’s party.  Thank the gods for locks on the inside of public restrooms.  
  
And now, watching football in Andy’s hotel room with a few beers (Mirka had gone to bed early after complaining of back pain), their silence was as comfortable as ever.  Part of Roger was waiting for the other shoe to drop.  It couldn’t really be possible for him to have his cake and eat it too… could it?  
  
“If you don’t stop looking at me that way I am going to poke one of your eyes out.”  Andy said as he pawed at the back of Roger’s head, something in between a smack and a caress.  
  
“Fine.  I’ll stop looking at you.”  Roger just returned his attention to the television and took a sip of his beer.  Andy would never settle for that… one… two… three…  
  
“Cut the bull, Rog. What is going on?”  Andy turned towards Roger on the couch and started fidgeting with his own beer bottle.    
  
Roger tried not to smile at Andy’s predictability.  “Nothing.”  Andy looked about as convinced as he looked like a midget.  They stared at one another a moment.  Neither budged.  Roger sighed, looking down to his lap and running a hand through his hair.  “It’s just… the baby…”  
  
Andy nearly jumped out of his seat and into Roger’s lap.  As it was, he suddenly had both hands on Roger’s forearms, grip tight.  “Oh my god, is everything all right?  Mirka’s okay isn’t she?  She looked a little wobbly when I saw you with her last…”  
  
“Whoa, whoa there.  Slow down.  Everything is fine with the baby.”  Andy visibly relaxed.  “It is just… I am going to be a father.”  
  
Andy smiled.  “I know.  It is pretty cool.”  
  
Roger looked flabbergasted.  “How can you say that?”  
  
“Uh… I open my mouth and I…” Andy was interrupted by a smack to the back of his head.  
  
Roger rolled his eyes.  “Cute.  No, you know what I mean.  How can you be… okay… with this?” The Swiss frantically motioned between them.  
  
Andy looked utterly confused.  “What is there to not be okay with?”  
  
“In a few months I am going to be a father.  Mirka is having my baby.  And you are still fucking me.  The logic doesn’t exactly seem to follow…” Roger was still waving his hands back and forth between the two of them but stopped abruptly when he was interrupted.  
  
“Fuck logic.” Andy’s face was dead serious.  “Mirka is having your baby.  Maybe you’ll marry her at some point.  And you’re fucking me.  You probably won’t marry me at some point.  Mirka knows about me, I know about her, and ne’er the twain shall meet.  I lie; I like hanging out with Mirka.  She’s bloody funny.  But the sex you have with me and the sex you have with her are two different animals.  The relationship you have with her and the relationship you have with me are two different things.  The only person who doesn’t seem cool with this is you… and that is a valid point, so if you want me to disappear I can do that.”  
  
 “No, no.” Roger shook his head rapidly.  “I just… this doesn’t seem strange to you?”  
  
Andy snorted.  “Hell no.  Not right now, at least.  Can’t say what’ll happen in a few months.” He shrugged. “But you and me, this is a friendship, albeit an odd one, and this is sex, and this is… I don’t know what the hell this is, but it certainly isn’t getting in the way of you having a family.  And if you are going to make it get in the way I am walking, because that family is more important than you appreciate.”  
  
Roger just stared at Andy, blinking.  “What planet did you come from?”  
  
“Pluto.” He answered easily, not missing a beat.  “I am putting in a petition to get it raised back to planet status next week.  But right now you need to understand that your child-to-be doesn’t change what is going on between us right now.”  
  
Roger deflated, a grin finally cracking his face. “I just don’t understand how I got this lucky.”  
  
"Well, it certainly wasn’t your good looks or your charming personality.”  Roger rolled his eyes at Andy, but the Brit continued, a bit more serious.  “But honestly, it doesn’t bother me as long as it doesn’t both you.  It does bother me if it bothers you.  Otherwise it is not a bother.” Andy grinned at his own verbal silliness.  “At this point I am just enjoying what I can get while I can get it.”  
  
“When did you become the one with all the wisdom in this relationship?”  Roger mused, finishing off his beer.  
  
“I always have been.  I’ve just been letting you think you were the brains of this operation.  It is all part of my plan.”  Andy smiled, slouching back on the couch.    
  
“Your plan?” Roger was trying not to laugh but not quite succeeding.  
  
“No.  No way.”  Andy crossed his arms over his chest.  “I’ve seen this part of the movie before.  The hero gets the villain to go off on a tangent and explain his whole evil plot and then the hero goes out and thwarts it.  No way.  You don’t get details until it is well over.”  
  
“And you are the evil villain here?”  Roger gets out through his laughter.  
  
“The villains are always the smart ones.”  Andy taps his temple with a finger and grins.  “Because good is dumb.”  He puts his feet up on the coffee table and his hands behind his head, the image of self-satisfaction.  
  
Still sniggering, Roger leans back into the couch as well and Andy’s arm finds its way around his shoulders.  He turns his head to the side and kisses Andy’s wrist.  Andy leans in to nuzzle behind Roger’s ear, breath on his neck.  
  
“Don’t worry so much, Rog.  Whatever happens, when it happens, I know you’ll deal with it fine.”  Roger can feel Andy smile against his skin as he speaks.  “But I think there are other things to be thinking about right now…”  
  
“Oh, really?”  Roger tries his best to sound innocent and surprised, but it doesn’t quite work with Andy.  
  
“If I wanted an innocent schoolgirl I’d go fuck a Frenchmen.”  The Brit’s voice is rough and low.    
  
Roger let’s out a snort of amusement.  “Tsonga could beat the shit out of you and you know it, so stop being so British.”  
  
Andy growls at this and nips at the nape of Roger’s neck with his teeth.  “Watch it, you fancy-pants Swiss.”  
  
At this Roger turns his head, finally facing Andy.  “You have no problem with the fanciness of my pants when you are in them.”  His smirk is as mocking as it is seductive.  
  
Andy leans forward, using his height as an advantage and looking down at Roger.  “When I am in your pants I am paying not paying any attention to the pants themselves.”  
  
Roger’s smirk turns into a smile and he presses his body back into Andy’s, responding to the silent challenge in kind.  “Well you should.  They are quite expensive you know.”  
  
A huff of laughter rolls past Roger’s cheek.  “I know.  That is why I don’t pay attention to them.  Like I said, fancy.”  
  
Roger actually laughs at this.  “It is all about the present and not the packaging, hm?”  His nose is just barely brushing Andy’s and both of their voices have dropped low.  
  
“Exactly.  Just like Christmas.  All the paper ends up in a wad in the wastebin.”  His hand finds its way under the hem of Roger’s shirt and onto flushed skin.  “All the presents unwrapped, ready to be played with.”  
  
“My great-aunt used to always make us take off the paper without ripping it so she could fold it and save it.”  Roger’s hands are grabbing at Andy’s biceps under the sleeves of his t-shirt.  “I always wanted to just rip open all of them, even the presents that weren’t mine, just to spite her.”  
  
Andy smiles widely, happy that Roger shared that tidbit with him almost as much as he is that Roger is still sitting next to him, especially after that last conversation.  The Swiss could be skittish sometimes and Andy had gotten used to soothing him, working through it, but it was never a given that it would all work out in Andy’s favor.  This time it had, but next time was no guarantee.  Which was why Andy had taken such a “take what you can get” attitude towards their relationship; it was only practical.  
  
“I’ve got a present you are welcome to rip open.” Andy’s lips are as close to a kiss without kissing as possible.  “Just do it soon.  Your present is getting frustrated.”  
  
Roger complied easily, hands pulling hard at the t-shirt in front of him while his mouth opened wide into a deep kiss.  The shirt actually ripped under his fingers and they parted, laughing, as the seams gave way.  “Maybe we could move this someplace with a little more… space?”  Roger’s fingers toyed with the tattered seams on Andy’s shoulders.  
  
“I think that is the smartest thing you’ve said all evening.”  Andy smirked as he stood from the couch and threw the remains of his t-shirt to the side.  “And you owe me a new shirt.”  
  
Roger rolled his eyes as he followed Andy towards the bed.  “I’ll buy you a nice fancy one.”  He grabbed at Andy’s ass as he passed him by, turning on his heel to face him, back to the bedroom.  “It’ll match my pants.”  
  
“Can I get a bow for my hair, too?” Andy mocked in a watery falsetto, grabbing for Roger’s hip.    
  
The Swiss just danced out of his reach. “Only if you are a good boy.”   
  
Andy laughed, advancing on Roger and pushing him down onto the bed.  “Oh, don’t worry.  I’ll be quite good.”  
   
~**~  
  
The next afternoon a package wrapped in plain brown paper surprised Andy by falling out of his locker and landing at his feet.  
  
Ripping it open quickly he found a new t-shirt, somewhat similar to the one that had been mauled the night before, and a large barrette with a painfully pink bow attached to it.  There was a short note in very familiar script between the barrette and the shirt.    
      
    _Good boy.     –R_


End file.
